Midnight
by YamiTami
Summary: One of the first fics I wrote once I got back into the fandom a few years ago. Short oneshot about Mustang fantasizing.


**Since people are still interested in my fics over here and FFN has fixed a couple (but not near all) of the issues it's been having, I'll start posting my stories here again. This is really against my better judgment and if they screw up so that dashes disappear or the ads somehow get more annoying, then I'm not coming back. It's bad enough they still don't allow tildies for no apparent reason.**

**I'm posting this in chapter one of all my stories so everyone knows where I can be found. See my profile for the link to my homepage.**

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Of all the ways a heater could break, why did it have to break _on_?

I walked into my apartment around midnight, exhaustion and heat making my feet drag ever so slightly. The cleanup did a hell of a lot more damage than the fight. Damn brat...

As I peeled off my shirt I made a mental note to ask Riza to do some intimidating the next day; if the temperature in my apartment was any indication, the Commander of Maintenance didn't take my threat to heart. He'd soon learn that a First Lieutenant with a pistol could be far more terrifying than a Colonel with a glove, even if that glove could destroy his precious car in less than three seconds.

I caught myself before I plunged headfirst into a property destruction fantasy. I wasn't fond of the COM and he wasn't fond of me, and we could just leave it at that if he'd just send someone to fix my damn heater. The heat made me feel numb and heavy. My spiteful side got louder and reason became harder to grasp. I hated the heat.

Sighing in resignation I pulled off my left glove. I'd already tossed the right into the trash; there was no saving it. I wondered if Edward knew how much ignition cloth cost and how much _time_ it took to embroider the seal into the back. I only had two complete pairs left and I usually kept four right hand gloves. I'd have to spend the weekend bloodying my fingers over it.

I dropped the glove on the nightstand and, after a moment's thought, my dog tags joined it. I didn't want to think about those slices of metal and the first place I'd worn them. What I wanted was to lose myself in some soft, yielding, female flesh. Tire me out, distract me, make those breathy moans that turn me on. Hell, I'd have even taken talks of marriage if it meant I had a girl with me. Unfortunately the circumstances of the past couple of days had left me with no options.

With another resigned sigh I let myself fall onto the mattress. I shifted so I was lying flat on my back and stared at the ceiling.

I hated an empty bed. Being alone gave me the chance to think.... dangerous things.

I already knew better than to fight it. I never won.

I slid my hand down my abdomen, imagining that someone else was doing the touching. Over the hard muscled of my chest, stomach, pausing a moment to toy with the thin curls trailing down beneath heavy blue fabric. Ran my fingertips under the waistband as a teasing, infuriating lover would with a smirk and a cocky order to _ask_ for it. _Beg_ for it.

I could practically hear it.

I closed my eyes as I worked my pants open. Pictured the scene as it played out in my head. Hair unbound. Skin bare. The eyes... the eyes couldn't be soft. Couldn't be yielding. I'd have to fight for it, _earn_ the privilege of seeing those eyes go unfocused.

I pushed the last of my clothes off my hips and kicked them onto the floor. Licking my lips and keeping my eyes closed, I slowly wrapped my left hand around my growing erection as I fisted my right in the sheets. I traced the veins and ridges and every square centimeter of wet, velvety skin. Fluid was already leaking from the tip and I smeared it across my length, easing the slide of my hand over sensitive flesh.

I didn't know if the fingertips caressing me would be smoother or rougher than mine. I did know that there would be teeth against my neck, a hot tongue weaving a wet trail that would stop at my ear. Air that burned more than any flame scorching the side of my face as not so sweet nothings were whispered... no, _growled_.

Watching me lose control would stop being enough and I'd be pushed back into the pillows. A naked body hovering over me, that self-satisfied smirk still in place. Fading when a hard stroke made me moan and throw my head back. Then a body covering mine, pressing against me and rubbing in all the right places. Rocking against me as we both lost ourselves in the pleasure.

It would be beautiful.

I came hard. I always did when it was... like that. As I floated down from my high the old familiar weights of fatigue and guilt settled down on my chest. Thankfully the fatigue was stronger that night. I couldn't even move to clean myself up. So I lay there spread eagle and sticky as my eyelids grew heavier than the guilt and unconsciousness claimed me.

As I drifted off to nightmares, I wondered if his auto-mail would make the bed cooler.


End file.
